The Half-Nighter
by amythis
Summary: Tony wakes up Angela in the middle of the night with a confession.
1. Third Quarter

I've been asleep about an hour when someone knocks on my bedroom door.

"Angela, can I talk to you?"

What could Tony want in the middle of the night? I suddenly remember almost six years ago, when he knocked and sort of apologized. Yet he still judged me for dating Grant. And, yes, he said that thing about not "doing something dumb like sleeping with his employer."

A lot has happened in six years. We still haven't been to bed together in that sense. There've been times when we've come close, but it's too much to risk. And, although Tony has a very healthy libido—well, he's athletic and Italian—he's also old-fashioned in some ways. He told me in Jamaica that he wants to wait till we get married, if we ever get married.

As for my libido, well, I sublimate a lot, put that energy into my work. I eat more chocolate than I used to. I was with Geoffrey for awhile three years ago, but that was before I admitted to myself that I'm in love with Tony. Since then, I keep it simple, hugging and kissing at most. I do that with Tony, too, but I wouldn't want to do more with another man than I do with him. It wouldn't feel right, even if we don't have any real commitment.

So, yes, it crosses my mind that he's knocking because he wants to change things between us. But why tonight? I thought he'd be mad at me for kicking his study group out, sending them to a motel. Maybe that's why he's knocking. I don't really want an argument right now, but we may as well hash this out.

"Angela? You awake?"

"Just a minute, Tony." I put on my robe and go to the door. As I open it, I say, "Let me just find my slippers and we can talk downstairs." Maybe in the kitchen. That seems to be where we have most of our (relatively) private conversations.

He shakes his head and whispers, "This can't wait. Can I come in?"

"Of course," I say, although this feels funny. When was the last time Tony and I had a conversation in my room? Well, there was the time after he convinced me not to marry Geoffrey. And there was the very early (although post-something-dumb) discussion about my underwear.

He closes the door behind him and he looks around for something. Then he spots the little cane chair I have by the window. He takes off the rag doll that I got from Daddy and sets it on the bed. Then he scoots the chair closer to the bed.

So I get back into bed, moving to the side I usually don't sleep on, the one furthest from the door. I absent-mindedly stroke Mandy the Doll's yarn hair.

"It's like this, Angela," he whispers.

"Tony, I'm sorry I made your group go to a motel," I whisper back. I don't know why we're whispering, except that it's late and he probably doesn't want the kids to know he's in my room and get the wrong idea.

"Yeah, me, too."

"Oh, it didn't work out as a study spot?"

"No, it was OK. But it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"None of what?"

He bites his lip and then inhales and exhales slowly. "Angela, I didn't plan for this, believe me."

I hold Mandy tighter. "Plan for what?"

"Well, you know, there were a couple girls in my study group. And I had, um, sparks with one of them."

"I see." Not Debbie. I've met her before. She was in that literature discussion group that Sam joined, the one run by Sam's brief crush, the married professor. Debbie is smart and funny, but she's also got glasses and some extra weight. She looks a little like I did at her age, she even has brown hair, but she's got far more confidence than I did. Tony likes her but she's not his type.

"Um, Kathleen."

He didn't introduce her to me by name. But she'd have to have been the tall, slender blonde. His type. But she's got shorter hair and is probably a decade younger than I am.

"I thought she was sort of annoying at first, but we have some things in common. We both love art and Italy. And she's working her way through college at a later age than average."

"I see. So did you ask her out?" Is that what this is about? He didn't ask my permission, or blessing or whatever it is he wants from me, when he went out with the girl from the health club, or let our tenant Michelle twist him around her little finger. And those were both after our talk in Jamaica.

"Not exactly."

"What exactly did you do?"

"Well, Debbie and the guys packed it in when it started to get late. But Kathleen and I kept looking at slides. And, well, they happened to be some suggestive artwork. Like Rodin's _The Kiss_. You know that one?"

"Yes, I know that one."

"And, I don't know, we were sitting there in the dark and we kissed."

I hold Mandy very tightly. "I see."

"And then we—"

"Tony, please. I don't want to know what happened next."

"Angela, I need to tell you."

I'm trying not to cry. Why is he telling me this? He slept with someone else! Why did he do that and then why did he race home to, what, brag about it?

I know, he's been with other women since we met, but I don't think anything like this happened with the girl from the health club, or Michelle. Why is Kathleen different? And how could he be with her, a woman he hardly knows, when I've known and loved him for so long? I thought maybe he loved me, too, but apparently not. What am I, just his best friend that he can harmlessly flirt with? Does he expect me to be happy for him?

I say none of this. I just sit here silently, preparing myself to stand the details. I could send him out, not just out of my room, but out of my house, out of my life. But I may as well know everything. It'll make it easier to let go of him, or at least of the silly dream of romance with him someday. He's not the man I thought he was, and it's better to be disillusioned than to live a lie.

"We started making out. Necking and then we took off our shirts. I undid her bra."

Even that is more than he's done with me. But I'm the uptight on-a-pedestal "lady," not someone to fool around with, right?

"We fooled around some more. And then she put her hand on my belt."

No, no, NO! I don't want to hear any more!

"And I said no."

I stare at him. "You said no?"

"Yeah, it didn't feel right."

"Oh, are you going to save it for when you two get married?"

He swallows. "OK, I deserve that. But I'm not going to see her again."

"Why not? She sounds perfect for you."

"She's all right. I mean, Frankie was more of a 'perfect match,' and I didn't marry her."

I don't ask if he slept with Frankie. I don't want to know. Instead, still in my bitter tone, I say, "There are a lot of women you haven't married."

"Yeah. Because only two have even tempted me to make a serious commitment."

"Marie and what lucky lady?"

He looks right at me, although he's been looking away a lot as he's talked about Kathleen. "Do you have to ask?"

"If you mean me, Tony, we never made a commitment. We just made a commitment to consider a commitment down the road. If we had a commitment, I'd like to think you wouldn't have done what you did tonight. But you were free to do more than you did."

"Then why do I feel like I betrayed you?"

I blink. "You do?"

"Yeah. Not as much as I could've, but to even be in that situation, after all we've been through, especially these past few months—" He shakes his head.

"So why did it happen? As much as did happen."

"I don't know," he says very quietly.

I look at him, this man I love so much, who has hurt me so much, and not just tonight, even if it's never deliberate. I could send him away. I could cuddle Mandy like I did when I was little and the kids at school teased me. But that's not the comfort I want right now.

"Tony," I say and, despite the whispering, it has elements of both an order and a plea, "take off your shirt and come to bed."


	2. Fourth Quarter

I blink. I know it's late and I've been on an emotional roller coaster tonight. And Angela is speaking as softly as I've been. So maybe I didn't hear what I thought she said. "What?"

"I said, take off your shirt and come to bed."

Did my story about Kathleen actually turn her on? Or is this her way of reclaiming me because she's jealous? Angela doesn't work that way, does she?

"Can I ask why?"

"I need my best friend right now."

Great, an explanation that makes even less sense. But I figure I owe her this, whatever this is. So I take off my shirt, and my shoes, and get into bed, sitting next to her. I move the rag doll out of my way and toss it back in its chair.

The couple times Angela and I have shared a bed, we didn't touch. The first time, I thought she was Sam, who'd had a nightmare, so I could've cuddled her I guess, but I was beat that night and fell asleep right away. The second time, the bed was very narrow and we knew exactly who was in it. Those both happened years ago. We've been careful to stay out of bed since, although it's not always easy.

It was easy with Kathleen, both being in bed and not "being in bed." I don't mean she was easy. Well, easier than Angela, who I can't picture being ready to hop into bed with a guy, especially one she's not even dating. OK, Angela isn't dating me, but we have a history, which Kathleen and I don't. And that's why it was easy. I could've gone through with it, blamed it on stress with school or on the dark motel room or on the slides. But that would be like if I'd slept with Angela in Jamaica and blamed it on the tropics. I can fall into a kiss or a bit more, but after a certain point, I put brakes on, start questioning things. Sometimes I still go through with it, but less often than when I felt completely single.

Would I go through with it if Angela asks tonight? I don't know. I'm so mixed up right now.

To my surprise, Angela strokes my arms and my chest, like she's a Cardinals groupie admiring my muscles. Then she tells me, "Lie down."

And I do. I'll question things if she goes for my belt, but right now I'll let her do what she wants above the waist.

Then she takes off her robe and snuggles up against me. I can feel her skin against mine, her bare arms and the almost bare shoulders. I resist the urge to lower the straps of her nightgown. I have to let her control this, to a point.

"Hold me, Tony," she whispers even more softly than before, because our heads are so close now.

I put my arms around her. God, she feels good, so right! It's like I'm remembering all our other hugs, and at the same time hugging her for the first time, because it's never been like this, skin on skin, lying in bed. I want her, but I also feel really tender, protective of her.

"Tony, you really are my best friend."

"You're mine, Angela." She is, but we're not just friends, right?

"So I want to tell you about a man."

I feel like she's taken a knife and stabbed me in my exposed ribs. But I deserve this I guess. "A man?" I choke out.

"Yes, it's a man I care deeply about. He's warm, funny, sweet, wise, both street-smart and plain smart."

"Is he good-looking?" I can't help asking. If it's me, I could use the compliments. And if it's not me, well, I want to know who my competition is.

She laughs softly against my neck. "Yes, very handsome, in a boyish but manly sort of way."

"Sounds like quite a guy."

"He is. He's also the strongest person I know. Not just physically strong, although he's that, but also emotionally strong. He's been through a lot, and shared his strength with me when I needed it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, he's also the weakest person I know."

"Oh." I don't like this.

"Do you know what his weakness is?"

"Chocolate?"

"No, that's my weakness."

I laugh, although I'm not sure if I should right now.

"This man's weakness is women. I don't mean he sleeps with everyone he meets, but he loves women. He loves being around them, he loves flirting with them. And they love him. He's very charming. I don't think he intends to be. It's not even a sexual thing most of the time. He just effortlessly wins over most of the people he meets."

"Well, that's not a bad thing."

"No, it's not, in itself. But it means that I'm not always sure how much he means it when he charms me. You see, when I flirt, I mean it."

"Yeah," I say, thinking of times when she's either made me flirt back hard or made me speechless.

"Sometimes this man seems to be offering something serious, but he always backs away."

"Well, he probably has his reasons. Nothing wrong with you, but things that he's going through."

"I know. And I've tried to be patient. It's just I thought this man and I had an understanding. And then tonight he told me that he almost slept with someone else."

"You want me to beat him up?"

"I think you already have a little."

I nod and then kiss her hair. "Sorry," I murmur, although I'm not quite sure which part I'm apologizing for.

"I can stand his wandering eye, but there are other body parts, ones I don't have a claim on, that I don't want wandering."

"Maybe you should make that claim." I can't believe I just said that! But if she puts her hand on my belt, I'm not going to stop her.

"Maybe I should." She shifts down the bed a little, but her hands go to my chest again. And she rests her head on the left side. "Do you think he would let me claim his heart?"

"Maybe it's already yours."

"Maybe. I know I should listen to my own heart, but I think I'll listen to his."

I try to send a message through the beats: _Angela, I love you! I'm sorry I screwed up but I didn't screw up as much as I could've. Do you forgive me or are you just playing mind games tonight?_

She sits up and smiles. "Do you want to know what my heart says, Tony?"

"What, Angela?"

I expect her to verbalize it, but instead she strips off her nightgown, so that she's only wearing her panties. A pink pair she didn't have a few years ago, when I didn't feel comfortable doing her more intimate laundry. I eventually got to the point where I could just see her "dainties" as cloth. I mean, it's not like I fetishize them! But her panties in the laundry basket are a very different matter than her panties on her.

"Well, Tony?"

"Um, yeah?"

"You can listen if you want."

I'm a little distracted, OK, a lot distracted, but I get what she means. She wants me to "listen to her heart." So I shift around, not quite sitting up but raising my head so that it's against the left side of her chest. I close my eyes so I can concentrate, although I'm still well aware of the soft yet firm breast against my ear.

And then, well, this is crazy, but I "hear" it. Like the beats are translated into English: _Tony, I love you so much! I want to trust you, but I don't know if I can. I'm almost naked and very vulnerable with you right now, and not just physically._

But what does being trustworthy mean? I know it means I can't ever let what happened tonight, and what almost happened tonight, with Kathleen ever happen with another woman again. But what does it mean with Angela? Do I try not to do anything with her till we're married, if we get married? Or does that sound empty now that I had no such rules for Kathleen?

On the other hand, does Angela want me to make love to her tonight? Would that heal her pain, show her how much I want and need her, and not just physically? Or would it be cheapened because I kissed another woman tonight?

The last time I kissed Angela, well, she kissed me. She was showing me how that guy Brad grabbed her and kissed her. I dangled from her arms, stunned but also letting her have her way with me. It felt good! Yeah, I wanted to grab and kiss her back, and I probably would've in another moment, once I got over the shock, but Mona interrupted of course. We're always being interrupted. If other people don't do it, we interrupt ourselves.

I really want to kiss her now. I want to say that I'm still scared of what crossing a line means, but we've already crossed some lines tonight. And I want to tell her that Kathleen means nothing to me and there won't be anyone else from now on. And mostly I just want to feel her against my lips.

So I kiss her breast. She tenses and I worry that I'm way out of line, even if she's the one who wanted us shirtless. But then she puts her hand on the back of my neck, and pulls my hair a little. So I keep kissing, over to the nipple, flicking it with my tongue and sucking, so that she starts pulling my hair harder.

I'm more shocked at myself than I was with Kathleen. This is Angela! Me and Angela. We don't do this! We flirt and we smooch and it gets steamy but it's all in the atmosphere, not contact like this.

I pull away, probably losing a little hair in the process. I look up at her and say what I said in Jamaica, "I think we both know where this is going."

She sighs. "Tony, why is it always all or nothing for you?"

"What?"

"Either we never go beyond kissing or you think we have to have sex."

"You don't want to have sex?"

"Of course I do! But not tonight. Not when you were fooling around with another woman an hour or two ago."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." I sit up. "Angela, I'm very confused right now."

She nods. "So am I. That's why I think we shouldn't rush into anything tonight."

"Was that too rushed?"

"No, it was lovely."

I smile. "It was. Hot but beautiful."

"Yes." She shivers happily.

"Angela, what do you want tonight?"

"I want you to hold me."

"Half naked?"

"Yes. If we are going to go further another night, maybe after we've talked things out more, I want to get to know your body, step by step."

One part is raising his hand, standing up, begging for her to claim him like she claimed my lucky heart.

She looks down and smiles, not pityingly, not triumphantly, but sweetly and maybe a little sadly. "That's not one of tonight's steps."

"Angela, I don't know if I can make it through the night, in bed with you like this."

"It's only half a night. Less than half by now."

"Yeah, but it's the most important half."

She kisses my cheek. "Thank you. Tony, how did you make it through the night in the motel with 'Ingrid'?"

"Well, to be honest, I waited till 'Ingrid' was asleep and then I went into the bathroom and, cough, took care of it."

"My bathroom is right there, Tony, and I told you that you can use it when you like."

I try not to remember when I walked in on her, how she was completely naked. It was awkward and embarrassing, but I'll admit, it was arousing, too. And here she is, almost six years later, apparently comfortable showing me half that nakedness, and for a longer time.

"Tony, it's your choice. You can go back to your own bed. Or you can do what you need to do and then come back and snuggle me."

"Half naked?"

"I want to feel your skin against mine."

I feel like I'm going to burst. But I kiss her on the mouth, as I caress both breasts. Her hands smooth my hair, gripping when she probably wants to cry out, but she knows she can't because the kids are down the hall and we have to stay quiet. This probably isn't easy for her either, but I get the sense she likes being aroused and a little frustrated. Good to know. I can make use of that on other nights, as long as I relieve the frustration eventually.

As for my own frustration, I carefully break away from her, giving her sweet lips a last lick, and those two delicious, still-perky-at-40 handfuls a last teasing squeeze. Then I get out of bed and head towards her bathroom, whispering over my shoulder, "Wait for me, Angela."

She murmurs, "As long as it takes, Tony."


	3. Overtime

It's not easy to leave Angela the next morning. I wish I could stay in bed with her all day. And not just because I'd be staying in bed with her. I didn't get much sleep last night. We didn't fool around anymore after I came back from the bathroom, and I was sleepy and drained (in more ways than one), but there just wasn't much left of the night to sleep.

She was soon out like a light, which was a little insulting, but she told me this morning that she felt peaceful in my arms. Anyway, I slept some and it was wonderful waking up with her, but I knew I couldn't linger. Besides the fact that I can't let the kids catch me in her room, I'm still the housekeeper. I have to get up and make breakfast for everyone.

So I kissed her goodbye and put my gray T-shirt back on. And now I'm standing in her doorway, and I whisper, "I'll make your favorite Belgian waffles. With whipped cream."

She gives me a sleepy smile of thanks. I quietly close the door and turn to go quietly back to my room, where I can change my clothes.

But Jonathan is standing in the hallway, staring at me.

"Uh, I was just checking to see what your mom wants for breakfast. Waffles good for you?"

"Sure, Tony," he says, sounding a little unsure.

Damn! Well, I may as well go downstairs, in yesterday's clothes.

…

I don't want to go to work! I want to stay home and fool around with Tony! But Mother would get suspicious. As it is, I'm going to have to be very careful how I behave at breakfast. It's too soon for Mother, or the kids, to know anything. Tony and I still need to talk things out, figure out what our relationship is now. And we should probably get some more sleep first.

He's got that big Art exam tomorrow. I'll wait till after that. I almost feel sorry for him, having to face Kathleen in class. But at least it'll be less awkward than if they had gone further. Yes, I'm so glad they didn't!

As for how far we went, in some ways I wonder how much of it had to do with too little sleep and too much emotional upheaval. At least we didn't take it further. I do want to, and I think he does, too, despite our discussion in Jamaica. Obviously, there are things that haven't yet been resolved. He's still in school (although at least now he has a major and a wonderful goal) and he's still my housekeeper. We're still from different worlds. He's still a widower who lost his beloved wife at a young age; I'm still a divorcée who worries about whether a husband could fully accept my successful career.

And the kids are still living at home. When I go out into the hallway, I see Jonathan, but he's leaving Sam's room. I'm not going to jump to conclusions. They're like brother and sister after all. Still, it is odd, because they fight so much.

Jonathan turns and I can't help asking, "Sweetheart, what were you doing in Sam's room?"

"Talking about what Tony was doing in your room, wearing the same outfit as yesterday."

Oh no! OK, keep cool and calm. "Tony? In my room? In the same outfit? As yesterday?"

"Mom, I saw him leaving half an hour ago."

"Oh. What did he say?"

"He said he was checking to see what you wanted for breakfast."

"Oh. That's right. Waffles."

Sam comes out of her room, brushing her hair. Like Jonathan, she's dressed for school. She says, "Angela, I heard him last night."

"You did?" And we tried to be so quiet!

"Yeah, he asked if he could talk to you."

"Right. And we did talk."

"All night?"

More like half the night. "We had a lot to talk about."

"Like what?" they both ask eagerly.

"Like his Art exam tomorrow."

"So you were quizzing Dad?"

"Yes." Not a complete lie.

"Mom, we're not little kids."

"And you did spend the night, OK, part of the night together, just down the hall from us. If you wanted privacy, you should've gone to a motel."

"They grow up so fast," I mumble.

"Mom?"

"Angela?"

"OK, what you think happened, didn't. But it might."

They look at me, then they look at each other, and then they look at me again. "Finally!"

"Wait. There are still some issues we need to resolve."

"Like what?" my son asks.

"A lot of things. But you two need to go to school, and I need to go to work, and we can talk about this more tonight."

I'm not sure how much I'll feel comfortable telling either of them, and presumably it'll be the four of us having the discussion, so I'll need to give Tony's a head's up. Maybe I'll call him from the office, if I can manage it without Mother listening in.

Oh God, I still have to face Mother!

…

I'm fumbling with the coffee packet, trying to open it. My lack of sleep has made me clumsier, plus now I'm feeling nervous. Maybe Jonathan bought the thing about the waffles, but Sam's not that naïve. And even facing Angela, when we haven't talked everything out yet, and it is sort of the morning after, well, not the first time but a first time, well, that's not going to be easy.

And then Mona comes in. I wave and say good morning, then go back to the coffee packet. God knows I need coffee right now!

She walks the long way around the kitchen table rather than sitting right down. I know I should make small talk with her, but I don't know what to say. I went to second base with her daughter last night, which I guess would make her happy, although me being shirtless in bed with Angela down to just panties, and us not taking it further, would probably disappoint Mona.

She comes over, takes my chin in her hand, and turns my head to face her. Then she lets go, raises her eyebrows, and says, "You got lucky last night." Then she walks away.

I toss aside the still unopened package and stare at her. She's got her hand on her hip and a knowing smile on her face. It takes me a minute to be able to ask, "How'd you know that?"

"How does a sailor know when a squall's a-brewing? I also know it wasn't with Angela, since I didn't hear her singing 'Climb Every Mountain.' "

"No, it was more like 'Do-Re-Mi.' "

Now she stares.

"Well, I mean, I got lucky, but not how you think."

She keeps staring.

"We're sort of at the beginning. 'Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.' "

"She's got you singing show tunes?"

I hear footsteps in the living room, so I say, "Mona, we'll talk about this later." Not that I want to talk to her about this, especially not before I talk out the rest with Angela. I mean, I did want to wait till Angela and I got married before getting "intimate," but that would have to be after I finish college and maybe get a teaching job, and I don't think I can last that long, especially after last night. But anyway, I can't talk about this with Mona right now, because the kids are walking through the swinging door.

Jonathan beams at me. "Good morning, Tony. Are the waffles ready yet?"

"No, not yet." I know he said something to Sam, I can tell.

"Nice outfit, Dad. But two days in a row may be pushing it, even for a college sophomore who's cramming for finals."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Mona asks.

They keep this up, they're not getting breakfast.

Then Angela comes in, and I have no idea how to handle it. Everyone knowing, or thinking they know, what went on last night makes this even harder to deal with than how I originally imagined it, with last night as my little secret with Angela. I'm sure she's going to feel just as self-conscious as I do, considering how shy and insecure she still gets sometimes. And she's a very private person anyway. (Which is another reason last night was so special.)

"Tony, you forgot your shoes," she says, holding them up. She's right. I'm still in my stocking feet. I was too distracted and sleepy to notice earlier.

Mona and the kids are grinning. But you should see their faces when Angela comes over, hands me the shoes, and then plants a kiss on my mouth. I drop the shoes and this time grab and kiss her back like I wish I had done when she showed me Brad's kiss.

That shuts the kids up, but Mona says, "I hope she's paying you overtime."

THE END


End file.
